Uninvited - Oneshot
by ShrapnelGirl
Summary: For centuries, polar bears have been invading Iceland from Greenland, floating on icebergs during wintertime. This time though, a particular talking polar bear accidentally floats his way to Iceland! What will a nation notorious for mercilessly killing polar bears do?


**A/N:**_ So... I should have been writing an essay, but instead I got this idea for a oneshot. I hope you like it! _

**Exclaimer:**_ No polar bears were harmed in the making of this story. Also, Hetalia belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz._

* * *

_Uninvited – Oneshot_

One brisk winter morning, a pale boy sat in the snow watching wave after wave attempt to lick the heels of his boots. He was at a beach, sitting comfortably on a deck chair with a woollen blanket draped around his shoulders to keep the cold at bay. This desolate fjord in the North-West of Iceland was his favourite place. The only other living beings there were foxes and sheep and birds and insects - no sign of humans anywhere, just the way he liked it. Because the mountains almost closed the fjord in a perfect circle, only allowing the sea to enter a narrow passageway, the little fjord was mostly spared the icy wind that haunted the island.

Iceland, for that was the boy's name, let out a sigh and snuggled further into his blanket. He had needed this so badly: Seclusion, peace, quiet. Ever since he made the mistake of informing his fellow Nordics of the results of his excavation, namely that Norway was his biological brother, he had been flooded with phone calls, emails and even visits from his annoying family insisting he called them oni-chan, brother dear or, bizarrely, big sister. Iceland did not know what evil spirit possessed the other Nordics, but after a week of this madness he started finding them in the oddest places in his house: Finland in his fridge, Denmark under his bed, Norway in the bathtub sniffing a bar of soap, Sweden in his library sitting on a throne of books and glaring menacingly… Iceland stopped being able to sleep, he stopped daring to leave his bed… In short, he got paranoid that wherever he went, a rapeface Nordic would jump him and demand to be called that humiliating term _brother dear_.

He couldn't take it. Somewhere during week two, Iceland packed his bags in a hurry, stole out in the middle of the night and drove like hell away from his capital without even thinking about taking his pet puffin with him. Iceland was all the way up north when he finally dared to take is foot off of the gas pedal. Looking around frantically, he determined that the Nordics hadn't followed him. Falling to his knees, Iceland praised the Lord, the gods of old and Karl Benz, inventor of cars. Then he set up his tent, took out his deck chair and chilled the fudge out.

Ah! What peace, what quiet there was! No Nordics anywhere to be seen, no humans at all, no demands. It was heaven on earth. Iceland could feel his eyelids grow heavy, his body getting lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of the waves. Finally some sleep…

"Hello! Anyone there?"

Iceland startled so much that he fell backwards in his chair. A string of profanities escaped him.

"You there? Hey! Human! Help!"

_Human?_ Iceland thought. _What a strange thing to say. Unless… Oh no. Please don't be a nation. And please, _please_ don't be a Nordic._

Very carefully, Iceland peaked over his deck chair in the direction the voice had come from: The sea. At first he saw nothing. Then he spotted the iceberg that slowly made its way to him. On that iceberg there stood a polar bear, waving frantically and shouting.

"Dang it," Iceland cursed. Greenland had sent another one of her annoying polar bears over again. She still held a grudge since the time Iceland took her over and wiped out some of her native population _ages_ ago. Every once in a while, she tried to get even by sending hungry, feral polar bears to Iceland in the hopes they would kill some of his population. It was a pointless war, but unfortunately not even Russia, Iceland's newest best friend, was able to convince Greenland to stop even though he glared and growled at her during Arctic Council meetings. She just growled and glared back. That woman was afraid of nothing.

Quickly, before the iceberg got too close to shore, Iceland ran to his car to fetch his rifle. He kept the thing hidden under his blanket and took a stand at the beach, waiting for the bear to come close enough to shoot it point blank. When the iceberg hit the shore, Iceland aimed his rifle under the blanket directly between the polar bears eyes.

The polar bear gave a sigh of relief and jumped to shore. As soon as his back paws touched land, the bear got down on four legs and kissed the ground.

"Praise the heavens!" he shouted. "Land! Finally land!" After snuggling the sand for a bit, the bear stood up on two legs and waived to Iceland, who stayed a safe distance away from the beast. "Hey! Human! Where is the next airport?"

Iceland lowered his gun, astonished.

"What do you need an airport for?" he asked. What kind of a feral monster behaved this way? The bears Greenland usually sent spared not a second after reaching land trying to kill and maim their way across the country. This one seemed… special.

"To get back to Canada of course," the bear stated as if it was obvious. "I need to get home to what's-his-name."

Now Iceland was very confused.

"You're from Canada?" he asked, dumbfounded. "What are you doing here? I thought Canada liked me. What's he sending polar bears for?"

The polar bear shook his head.

"What are you rambling on about?" he said. "I wasn't sent here. I came by accident. I don't even know where I am!"

_That sounds like a lie. This might be a new tactic,_ Iceland thought. He aimed his gun again.

"Iceland," he said. "And I'm the Icelandic nation in person."

Now the bear looked seriously worried.

"I-Iceland?" he stammered, backing away from said nation. "The polar-bear-killer?"

Iceland grinned. It seemed as if he'd made quite a name for himself amongst the polar bear population.

"Mmmhm, yupp, that's me," he said. In one swift motion, Iceland pulled the blanket off of his rifle so that the bear could see exactly what sort of troubles he was in. The steel barrel shone almost audibly under the sun. Iceland fiddled with the trigger threateningly.

The polar bear looked scared shitless now. He backed all the way on to his iceberg and lifted his paws over his head.

"Easy now," he said. "There's no need to jump to conclusions…"

"Admit that you're here to do Greenland's evil biddings and I might let you sail back home with at least _half_ your tail," Iceland growled. The polar bear yelped.

"Please," he begged, legs now shaking under him. "I don't even know this Greenland person… much." Iceland narrowed his eyes, causing the bear to flinch. "Please! I swear, I have nothing to do with her attacks! I'm Kumajiro, the friendly polar bear from Canada! Just look!" As proof to his words, Kumajiro spun around and lifted his tail high in the air. There seemed to be something written on his bottom. Iceland squinted to read the words. MADE IN CANADA. It seemed legit.

"Who's your master?" Iceland asked, taking no chances.

"I don't know," Kumajiro said. He was practically crying now. "What's-his-name."

"You mean Canada?" Iceland shook his head. How could that bear know the name of the country and have his master's name bloody_ stamped_ across his bottom and still not know?

Kumajiro's eyes lit up.

"That's it!" he yelled. "That's my master! Please, just send me back to him. Please don't shoot me. I come in peace, honest."

"Why are you here?" Iceland said, voice ice cold.

"I was out fishing with my master and the ice broke and I was stuck," Kumajiro said as fast as he could, words almost scrambling together as he spoke.

Iceland pondered a while. All the things Kumajiro said sounded like truth. That bear was also really not acting like any of the ones Greenland had sent, and he had heard of Canada having a pet bear called Kumajiro… It still could be new tactics in polar bear invasions, deviously thought up by the Green Lady, though.

Iceland did the mistake of looking into Kumajiro's large button eyes while making his decision. That bear looked so much like a kicked puppy, Iceland was inclined to believe him.

"Alright," he sighed, lowering his rifle. "You win. Hop in the car and I'll drive you to Ísafjörður airport."

Kumajiro let out a growl of satisfaction.

"Thank you sir. Thank you so much."

For years after, Kumajiro would tell his polar bear friends the legendary tale of how the awesome he fought and defeated the notorious polar-bear-killer. Iceland returned to his home in the capital, finding it blessedly empty of Nordics. He did, however, find a very pissed-off Mr. Puffin.

* * *

**A/N:** _If you liked this oneshot, please fav, comment and check out my other stories!_


End file.
